The waters of the Ganges lapped at the edge of Varanasi city’s western bank. Fires rose on the burnt ground, the flames reflected in the river like the rays of the setting sun. The smell of burnt flesh, cloth and wood chocked the air making the mixed spice fragrances of the markets seem lost in the past.
From the distant boat, I watch men bring my relative’s body down to wash in the river. I wasn’t allowed to go because it was believed women make the event more sorrowful but I had want to see this ancient tradition.
(Inspired by; https://whatpegmansaw.com/2019/05/25/varanasi-india/ with thanks).
Great to see you on Pegman! Enjoyed this vivid story. Did you want to add it to the InLinkz? https://fresh.inlinkz.com/party/39a798657f7f41bcb9342b2ad3b6a2c5
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. I shall do.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great story. Thanks for contributing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s really good.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I felt I was there. So sad she had to watch from afar and couldn’t be a part of the ceremony.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. 🙂 I felt so too but I researched it and that’s a part of the culture there.
LikeLike